


Reasons

by Everyman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry who challenges ol dumbles and young riddle, I don't know, Master of Death, Master of Death Harry, OCs that overlap with a certain story of mine too, Parseltongue, Time Travel, Vampire Politics, Vampires, and THEN i had to include OCs of course i did, author is a terrible human, but haha not, hopefully BAMF!Harry, i am sorry i am adding another story to the endless list of tropes sigh but oh wells, i blame all the awesome mind-opening fics i've read, i never even thought of the possibility of a darklordtobe and a goldenboy dynamic before, i tried to search but my mind combusted, im having like two similar base ideas for two separate fics at one time omg, it's like i have no original universe, let's ignore the year time issues and ages, maybe a slight Dumblebashing but yknow Dumble keeps trying but failing. spectacularly, they all overlap, this is a bad idea, what is this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:54:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everyman/pseuds/Everyman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was more to being the Master of Death than just in name.<br/>Death is the inevitability of all time. What happens when you are the Master of that then?</p><p>The world is about to get a whole lot bigger. And complicated, of course.<br/>What else for the one and only Harry Potter?<br/><b>NOTE: this is going to take me very long to update I am sorry, but i will update. </b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> bear with me. thank you.  
> fair warning: unbetaed and prone to impulse editings of previously missed mistakes.  
> disclaimer, HP belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a visitor to another time, another place, arrives, to find surprises larger than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently people add this atop things.  
> i obviously do not own any of the work that this fanfic is based on. anyone can tell the difference in writings.

“Are you ready now?”

 

21 months, to date, under his teacher’s tutelage, he knew to look for the nuances in the words and breaths taken that indicated his teacher’s worry and weary acceptance for his student’s decision.

23 months since the day Voldemort’s body was no more than a sack of heavy bones and flesh, no more the soul that was bound to his forever.

21 months since he had, quite literally, found his teacher and been accepted as a suitable student - not for the lack of trying so hard it could _almost_ compare to the time he spent hunting down the horcruxes. He still remembered the days he was perpetuated with fear every moment in his teacher’s presence. He had had to survive being hunted by said teacher before an impasse made him a newly accepted student.

21 months since he had been enlightened that being a Master of Death was a duty that entailed more than he’d ever expected.

 

Never had anyone in history of Magic had any being successfully owned all three Hallows at any one time, so there were no precedents for Harry’s situation. However, many much like his teacher, understood the intricacies that came with the power of wielding all three Hallows, and it was not the tools that made the Master, but the tools that the Master used to master Death.

 

Death is the inevitability of time and space essentially, as all life ends in death and only with death can new life be born. The tools combined gave a Master the ability to manipulate said time and well, dimensions, not space per se, and hence able to evade Death.

The stone is a link to the other realms and time. The wand a conduit to access and direct the Master’s power. The cloak to mask one’s presence from travelling between time and space, within voids.

Individually, the items are each with sought-after abilities, but together, they become an invaluable doorway to incomprehensible possibilities. They are the tokens that channel their Master’s will.

 

His teacher was wise, but one can only extrapolate and guess intelligently so far, and hence they’ve prepared as far as he could.

 

He lifted his head from his closed-eyed contemplation and met the blood-red eyes of his teacher. There was a time that seemed a lifetime ago, the colour brought fear to his veins, so close they were to a pair that used to haunt his dreams when he was but a school boy. Now they were warm as those pumping through his heart with hidden affection he knew was there.

Who knew he’d end up growing to care for a cold-blooded vampire.

“As ready as we will ever be, Aur.”

He ducked the expected swipe to the head, as the bloodsucking tutor chastised him for his informality. He startled though, when a cool long-fingered hand swept through his hair in a .. gentle … caress. He looked back up into those crimson eyes, contrastingly serious and light-hearted.

 

“Whatever may be, young one, remember that Death is no enemy, and you may always seek my counterpart out.” His thin lips curved up and a hint of fangs flashed in the moonlight. “I have faith in my omniscient power that transcends dimensions.”

 He felt the familiar presence in his mind, treading the open path into his mind that he allowed for only a select few.

  _Indulge an old man, little one, and try not to get yourself killed, alright?_

His own lips twisted up in a smile at the vampire’s sentimentalities. For all his penchant for sweet terms of endearment, the centuries old man had an odd difficulty with being straightforward when it comes to emotional topics.

_I will miss you too, Aurelius._

_Hmm, I will pray well we meet again in countless other realms, dear one._

 

Cupping the hand that now rested on his neck in a familiar hold, thumb on his jugular, he gave the familiar ring resting on those knuckles one last kiss farewell, and stepped back into the circle, surrounded by the seven ceramic bowls containing different representations of Death.

He took a deep breath, and nodded to his teacher, who spoke the final parting words.

 

“May Fate and Fortune favour you.”

“And may Death be forever on your side.” He responded.

 

Wand in hand, cloak draped over his shoulders in a modified cowl, and the stone resting on his breast, close to his heart. Harry took in a breath, gathered his magic and spread himself through his tokens.

 

Exhale.

 

He channeled his intent, and pulled and pulled harder on his magic than ever before.

 

Inhale.

 

His vision seemingly diminished, as black and white contrasting colours competed for space and time, wiping out any sight of his teacher or the room he’d come to know as “safe””, as unknown silhouettes danced in and out with reaching skeletal arms.

 

 

 

Goodbye.

 

Exhale.

 

============

HIs first trip was to Gringotts.

Appearing on the corner of the street in an alleyway across the bank from another place in another time seemed to have worked more smoothly than he’d expected. Sure, it had taken far too long and far too much effort to replicate any time soon, but seeing he was not bleeding anywhere, Harry considered it a great start.

The building did not look any much different from his time, ignoring the blatant holes that it suffered in the war that is. Whether it looked any cleaner or less intimidating, he couldn’t tell.

 

Fortius Quo Fidelius _, Strength Through Loyalty._

Looking up at the golden engraved words, he wondered how his first trial in this time and place would go.

Goblins were notoriously testy creatures whose respect are difficult to gain, but once they have accepted you, they were unlikely to ever disappoint.

 

Time to test if the bonding to a Vampire Lord would withstand the literal test of time and space.

 

The lobby was quiet and sparse, the chandeliers overhead giving the place a muted gold that complemented the architecture of the wizarding bank. Striding across the marbled floor, Harry approached the nearest counter, and there he paused, waiting without impatience.

The goblin behind the desk was frowning, unsurprisingly, at the parchments that lay before it, a moue of distaste upon its face. Harry watched as it dipped its quill every now and then to seemingly cancel or underline something. It seemed that he’d have to wait until the goblin was done with his particular document at the very least.

Harry tilted his head minutely, sensing an odd feeling as he continued to spot further familiarities in the goblin before him. If one added in a tad more warts, slightly more roughened skin…

 

The goblin finally looked up. “Yes?”  

 

Inclining his head in a respectful nod, Harry stepped up to the till.

“Good … day,” Harry paused as he suddenly realised he did not know the exact time. He blinked once, before continuing.

“I wish to open a permanent vault, and perhaps verify my bloodline, if possible. It would be greatly appreciated if such an arrangement could be done in the next immediate convenience.”

 

The goblin seemed to crank up the intensity of his stare, if possible. Harry merely stared back impassively, not bothered at all. He’d lived with a vampire - he was well-trained.

“Vault making requires prior arrangement. Inheritance Verification can be carried out immediately. Follow me.”

The goblin glared at him as if blaming him for wasting his time in walking, and led him down the dimly lit corridors to stop before an office door, with metal embossed words on the frosted glass. _Bodlach_.

“Bodlach will aid you in setting up your own vault, but as a word of warning, treat him with respect or suffer your wealth.”

 

Harry smiled wryly. “I will be sure take your words to heart. Thank you for sparing the time to guide me.”

Harry paused and decided to go ahead anyways.

“May Fortune and Fate be in your favour ... Griphook.” He suppressed a grin at the look of shock on the goblin’s face.

 

 

The goblin soon schooled his features back into that of disgruntlement, though noticeably less harsh and more suspicious.

“And may your wealth be ever bountiful, Mister…”

“Evans.” The goblin gave him one considering nod, and left him to each their own business.

 

After a knock, a no-nonsense voice bid him to enter.

 

The goblin perched high behind the sturdy desk regarded him through practical glasses, equipped with several specialised enchantments, Harry noted.

 

“Are you familiar with the process of opening a vault here at Gringotts?”

Harry shook his head. “I’ve read briefly of them, however i am not intimately familiar with them.”

 The goblin seemed to withhold a sigh.

“You wish to set up a Family Vault?” A nod. “To open a Family Vault, the process is much more intricate, but no more tedious than any other at Gringotts. It only differs depending on the owner’s wishes for their Vault.” As the goblin spoke, a stone basin was summoned from the shelves beside and placed upon the desk, along with a long parchment spread out beside.

 “To ensure that the Vault continues in your Family, it would require your blood to imbued, as well as your magic. Since you are also looking to trace your lineage, we might as well do that first, before opening any new Vaults. It would save the hassle of imbuing any additional bloodlines after.”

 

Bodlach, the goblin, then stood, and withdrew an ancient knife from the desk drawers, indicating for Harry’s arm. Harry complied with no hesitation - contrary to what he’d earlier said, he was fully prepared for the entire process. Now to only see if their efforts had gone to waste.

 

With a swift cut to his forearm, the goblin directed his flow into the basin, passing a hand over his wound to stop the blood flow when sufficient blood had been collected. With precision, Bodlach lifted one edge of the parchment, and allowed it to barely touch the surface of the blood. All this while, not one word was uttered by either parties, but Harry could feel the rise in magic as it took hold in the parchment and blood.

Slowly, the blood seemed to seep further into the parchment, rising up and forming neat words that were written in swift strokes of red. Apparently sensing an unseen signal, Bodlach abruptly lifted the list out of the bowl and lay it flat out between them. They both leaned over as a list of crimson slowly descended.

 

The scarlet words read:

 

_Descendent of the Peverell line_

_Descendent of the Potter line_

_Descendent of the Aurelius line_

Ah, it was all to plan then. He was successfully a descendent of his tutor’s long extinct line, which was long dead - not counting the “dead” vampire in this world. Harry was also not surprised by the Peverell line, having discovered it when finally checking through his Vaults after the War. 

Slightly amusing, considering how the descendent of one who greeted Death like an old friend also met the same fate, but ended up very differently.

 

Harry refocused on the parchment. The list seemed to be continuing, ink spreading, forming another line of words.

 

_Heir to the Red Lord of Vampires._

  
What.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i know right, Harry. What? ???????????????????
> 
>  
> 
> what is this i dont know i dont even know what pairing there is or how  
> im like having two similar idea based fics at the same time this is bad  
> i guess i just really am enamoured with the idea of having a knowledgeable someone handing tom riddle and dumbledore and whoever else their asses back, imagining their faces upon encountering a mastero'death harry. 8D  
> i blame amazing fics like those by the amazing the fictionist, issyslunaskeeter , athy, etc. (PLEASE READ THEIR BLOODY AMAZING WORKS)(you can tell by how my vocab has been reduced to an 'amazing')  
> if you see me copying ideas from them please inform me im so sorry i just blarp out words from my head automatically so sometimes those words turn out to be from other works just stored somewhere in that brain thing, instead of from my own head.  
> which is bad. bad bad.  
> oh and time confuses me so some people are somehow existent in this year / at this age. i tried. especially with schooling years - the place i live in has different schooling systems (sort of. ) (P.S. i am forever confused with high school - what age group is that for?)  
> messing with time, even in simple writing, is ..well, messy, chaotic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns a little on the strange new world, and finds a familiar old tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (there will be a clump of information in the middle. hmm)  
> omg who are you people who kudo-ed it. let me give you awkward hugs from a stranger who is overly emotional by heart shaped approval.  
> enjoy this measly next chapter. :3  
> ====  
> NOTE: the placement of scenes in this chapter is terrible. i may change this chapter in the next update. terrible terrible storytelling. tsk.

The list seemed to be continuing, ink spreading, forming another line of words.

_Heir to the Red Lord of Vampires._

..

What.

 

Harry darted his head up to meet equally widened eyes, though Bodlach was clearly not as ignorant of the implications of the last member of the list as he was. In fact, those eyes seemed to be truly taking him in for the first time since he’d stepped into the office, as if noticing his presence for the first time.

Harry wasn’t too sure it was a good thing.

The goblin seemed to pale slightly.

Right. Definitely not good.

 

“So,..Do.. Do you know what the - this means?” He tried to fumble for words even as his brain struggled to fit in this new ...development in his plans. “ Who is the Red Lord of Vampires?”

Red Lord? The last he knew, in his world, Vampire Lords like his tutor had been much like the Wizarding Lords, those of esteemed lineage or power, or those who have becomed the Head of a family may be called Lords. However, this "Red Lord" did not sound so much like any ordinary Lord. And what was with red, were there a dozen other colours too?

Harry realized that he might be being overly dramatic - a sad thing he suffered from when caught off guard. 

The goblin regarded him curiously.

“You truly do not know how you came by the status as the heir?”

“Yes. I only know of the existence of Vampires but what is this of a specific Red Lord?”

 

Bodlach continued in his unnerving scrutiny. He suddenly pushed back from the desk and crossed over to a sealed cabinet, items within obscured. He withdrew a thin book, leather bound with something dark, and handed it over to Harry.

“It is not my place to give speeches on the Vampire systems, but this book might help. We will send an owl with the details of the next meeting when we’ve created your Vault space. Then, we can complete the ritual for creating your Family Vault.” The goblin stopped, indicating no further inclinations to give out more information.

 

Utterly disconcerted, Harry sketched a half bow to the goblin, and muttered distracted farewells.

“Well met then. May Fate and Fortune favour you.”

 

As he turned and exited the doorway, he heard the goblin quiet reply.

“And may Luck shine on you, Heir of the Red Lord…”

  
Didn’t that just place a giant truckload of confidence in him?

===================

 

Thank Merlin for the old unchanging ways of the Wizarding world, where the galleons remain unchanged for years to come. Harry found a small coffee shop (Biddook’s Baked Delights) and helped himself to a fresh serving of coffee and pumpkin pie, and requested a copy of the latest paper. Seating himself down, Harry finally acknowledged how exhausted he felt as he scanned the paper with curious wary eyes. 

_August 23rd, 1944_

Notable articles on Grindelwald, though not as rampant as he’d expected them to be (admittedly, Grindelwald wasn’t all mass destruction and terror like Voldy had been), some award presented to some lady, talks about a new snitch being made, nothing much exciting. The only thing Vampire related was a small excerpt on a new book being published, that didn’t seem as worthy of reading as the one he’d been given.

Harry’d  decided that he’d better catch up with the current status of this new familiar yet very different world, before he proceeded with any major points in his plan. Especially about what Red Vampire Lords.

Harry found his mind stuck yet again on his troubling status. The “Red Lord” did not seem to be of the same status as any other Lord or Lady of noble or ancient families in the Wizarding world… in fact it seemed to him to carry almost the same weight and regard one would give a more important title.. like a certain Dark Lord, for example.

 

How he even became the heir, he was hoping it was not what he thought.

Discretely casting a privacy bubble around him, Harry withdrew the book Bodlach had gifted him from his robes. On a cursory glance, the book seemed plain, nothing extraordinary. The leather was worn down with age but was maintained well in good care, the bindings still crisp. No visible markings.

Flipping it open to the introductory page, there was a passage written almost like a journal. It talked about the author’s journeys and expeditions to the various Magical Beings homes and districts, travelling from continent to continent, and his troubles in trying to fully document what truly is and not what it seems.

 

Harry turned the page and found a list of contents. Following the list down his finger, Harry pinpointed two chapters of interest.

_-..._

_-Selkies and Kelpies: Beware their Laire._

_-Vampires: Undying Tradition_

_-The Red Court and the White Court: The History of the Vampire Lords_

_-..._

Harry quickly delved into said chapters, soon absorbed as every word he read drew him further in. His coffee lay forgotten and cold on the table as his brow grew even more furrows the more he read.

“..Comparable to the Fae Courts, the Vampire courts of Red and White both serve to provide a fluid system to deal with all matter Fae. Unlike the Fae Courts, where the different types of Fae are not restricted to Courts, the Vampire Courts are clearly distinguished by the types of vampires - Physical Vampires and Psychic Vampires. (See Chpt: Undying Tradition, Sub: Specific Diets and Sustenance) The main characteristic however that distinguishes one court from the other, is that of their stand and status with the other Magical communities.

The White Court is the home of the Psychic Vampires, overseen by the White Lord Diu’Patrae since his sire, the first White Lord, transferred the status to him. The White Court has been known to have long existing agreements with the Scottish Wizarding Community, and other lesser known relationships for providing the service of taking care of the unwanted and the condemned, much similar to how the British Community sentences its convicts to the hands of the Dementors. The White Court spreads its influences more throughout the western regions, including Ireland and stretching over the Celts Sea to France, whereas the Red Courts influence is seen more in the Eastern side, including Russia, and the Northern Places.  

 

The Red Court is home to the Physical Vampires, overseen by the Red Lord Aurelius, the first Red Lord since the Red Court was formed away from the White Court during the BloodRise Revolution, may those souls rest in peace. The Red Lord Aurelius is often hinted to be behind the rise in killings of Muggles where many often cited seeing the tall imposing figure rallying his people to drain all lifeforce, town by town. From my apprehensive queries to the vampires in the community I’d been lodging with, not many of them knew of whether such tales were the truth, often scoffing at the stories where the Red Lord was made out to be a vicious feral beast. It would seem that although there is definitely still a palpable fear and respect for the Red Lord, his subjects do not believe him a mindless monster as tales regale.

Between the two Courts, the Red Court seems to encourage more liberal practices of free mingling with prey and allies alike, whereas the White Court seems fond of contracts and political advances.

But one must not be mistaken - neither of the Courts are lenient and should one ever cross them, be wary for the lives of your line.  ****

I would recommend staying out of the way and out of notice from any vampire, Red or White.

Long have i stayed with both camps but little have i gathered on the topic on future Heirs. Words from the White Court is that so far none of the contenders for the Status have been accepted, and so far no news from the Red Lord at all. Many are still looking towards the possible future the Heirs may bring, for the current peace may not be holding up well under the crack of centuries passed.”

   
 ****

The words washed away, probably stored away for further analysis but his mind kept revolving around a few key things.

One - Aurelius was apparently a very big and scary bigshot in this world

Two - Apparently vampire politics grew so much in this world that they'd developed Courts

Three - The Heir status was starting to seem to be a very pesky problem for his plans.

 

Ah what he’d give to have his old tutor beside him now, if not only to see his reaction to being a fearsome “Red Lord” in this world. The reclusive vampire would probably give a cold sneer at the theatrics his counterpart seems to be fond of - much at odds with how his old tutor preferred solitude and peace. (Though Harry had witnessed enough maniacal laughter in the privacy of his tutor’s own dungeons to know that the flair of dramatics was no character change, just not in public view.)

Harry felt like laughing. Crying. Or something. It was always hard for him to tell the difference. Must have been the vampire influence.

He hoped that this would not complicate things, that maybe this “Heir” business would simply remain unnoticed - it was not like immortal Vampires would even care about Heirs would they?

 

Harry obstinantly ignored his feeling of dread.

 

He had a list of things to do, and Heir or not he would keep to the plan. Harry drained the last dregs of his coffee with calm determination. 

Harry had some house-hunting to do!

============

  **  
**

After pestering the counter lad of the shop, whom he found out the shop belonged to (“Really, it’s still my father’s but he named it and registered it as mine, haha.”), the charming young Biddook gave him plenty of tips and advices on where best to find the things he needed. Biddook’s face lit up with excitement after finding out that he’d just “came back from long travels”.

“You could always go to the Ministry to get a house via their “approved of” list, but if you’re looking for nothing too fancy, you should head over to the post shop and ask Marla if there are any suitable places that match what you’re looking for! Marla’s sort of the town “information centre”. Just say I sent you and she’ll take care of ya.”

“Thank you.”

The young man brushed off his thanks with a wave, sending him off with some free cookies. Harry found himself leaving with an odd smile on his face - the warm words of the young man reminded him fondly of a few mothering figures in his old world.

 

Marla turned out to be a no-nonsense lady, seemingly strict and harsh with a quick-whittled tongue, though it seemed as though everyone actually liked the frosty lady - fellow employees, customers and people who simply stopped by to say a quick hello.

Harry soon found out why so many liked her despite her sharp attitude.

“Where are you interested in? It might be a good start to have a general idea of what you’re looking for already - faster to narrow down too.”

“I was thinking of somewhere near Hogsmeade, maybe close to Hogwarts too.” He suppressed a grin as sharp eyes took him in, curiosity unbidden. “Heard there was an opening.”

“Defence? Ah, old Merrythought is retiring, ain’t she. Maybe she’ll finally get around resting those legs of hers and meeting me personally to get her Christmas presents. That woman’s a wonderful witch but holds no thought for her own health!"

She turned abruptly to shout into the backroom, “Niel Hornby! If i catch a whiff of smoke in there you’ll be cleaning the owl cages for the next week!

Now, let me see.. Hogsmeade…If I’m not wrong… “ She bent down below the counter and came back up with a ledger in hand. Harry watched as she muttered “Hogsmeade” beneath her breath, and the pages of the ledger responded, flipping through to rest somewhere in the middle. She gave a little “Ahah!” of confirmation. Turning the ledger to Harry, she pointed.

“This here is the old house Mrs Dodderby is looking to sell out. Finally staying in the new house with her son, that woman. She lives just on the edge of Hogsmeade, close to the Forest.”

On the page was a photo depicting a small nondescript house, the wooden slats of the wall and porch visible, but no less rundown than Grimmauld Place had once been. The thing that drew Harry’s eye was the old gnarled tree that had densely packed branches that peeked up and over the house.

“Is that holly?”

“Ah yes, keen eye you’ve got. The tree’s probably one of the largest holly tree left around the village. Don’t even know how it survives, but it’s been there as long as anyone can remember!”

Yet another difference in this world. A ginormous holly tree that didn’t exist in his time. Huh.

The lady eyed him for a bit and she decisively tore a scrap of parchment and scribbled down the address of the place.

“Here, take this. I’ll let Old Dodderby know that someone will be popping by to visit the house. If you are interested in it i can help you settle things between you two if needed. Now shoo! I’ve got customers to take care of.”

====

Harry was embarrassed to say he spent far too long loitering around the tree, enjoying its blissful shade and basking in the warmth he could feel from the tree. When he placed his hand upon its bark, he could feel a spark of faint recognition, like the welcome of a long separated but unforgotten friend. He felt like he knew the rough edges of the bark like the callouses of his own hand.  

He no longer used his old wand anymore, especially not since coming here, the holly and phoenix stored deep within his special case which contained all his connections to his old world, the world he’d left behind for a new start.

 

Harry sighed as the wood hummed beneath his hand, wondering how those he left behind were faring. They probably no longer existed, at least not in the reality he now set foot in. Harry took deeper breaths, trying to breathe through the pain in his chest he was determined to ignore. The tree seemed to empathize, branches swaying.

He knew he’d fallen for this house, this land, hook line and sinker, the moment he set foot on its soil.

The light wind in the warm dry air rustled softly through his hair and thick leafy branches as Harry leaned back against the tree. He was glad that he still had a connection to his old life, alive and living, even if not exactly a mobile sentience. Glad that it did not reject him, dispelling the fears he had refused to acknowledge that he had changed too much, gone too far for accepting this path.

 

Harry suspected he would find himself seeking this very nook far too often.  

 

  
****

Not that he didn’t still intend on heading back to a certain Chamber.

 

Now _that_ , that was where the treasure lay, in the place marked ‘X’ somewhere below the lake.

Harry happily crossed “Find a bloody house” off his list.

  
Next up, “Set up Base of Secret Operations in Chamber of Slytherin’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg bloody chapter two WHERE IS THIS STORY EVEN GOING WHY IS THERE A BLOCK OF IMAGINARY TEXT IN A WORK OF IMAGINARY TEXTS FOR ENTERTAINTMENT , FICTIONNONFICTION?- sorry i think i may be high on tea. 
> 
> mmm. tea. earl grey.  
> with chili apparently. because there was a chili container somewhere.  
> quite a strange sensation, this chilli tea. 
> 
> till next time!!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mindly residents and an acquaintance made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world of magic originally belongs to magnificant JK Rowling. 
> 
> this in between chapters are hard for me to decide what to cut out and what to leave. even now it's... not nicely done, but i'm stuck so here ya go.

Harry placed orders for a few necessary furniture with Marla after having settled the handing over of the deed to the house and the surprisingly large plot of land that came with it. Mrs Dodderby had been by the house to ‘get a hold of the person who’d be better taking good care of her house of 60 odd years’. The entire experience had left him highly bewildered with an extra large container of brownies and a folded stack of some fascinating knitted monstrosity. Mrs Dodderby was a knitting fanatic, apparently. Very experienced and very hard to say no to.

 

As Harry walked her out to the front porch of the house - his house now, he kept the genial smile fixed on his face as he waved goodbye to the older woman, despite the weight in his head that seemed to be pulsing. It had started up some time after his trip to Gringotts, where he became faintly aware of the irritation that just seemed to hover about in his mind, just outside his outermost Occlumency walls. Over time it had grown with persistence and given increased awareness, just residing there like an obstructive unobtrusive annoying roadblock. An annoying presence that he was annoyingly aware of.

Speaking of off-putting presences in minds, Harry took a gander through the floral labyrinth he’d constructed in his mind years ago after learning of various ways of the mind arts.

Hermione had hesitantly asked him why a deep entrapping maze. After he realised she was referring to his childhood where being locked in small dark enclosed places was the constant, Harry had smiled at his friend’s concern. It wasn’t so much darkness or enclosed places - it was places that he was safe in. A place he knew would support him, give him what he needs. Ron had likened it to their mutual love for flying - you were technically “trapped” on a broom, but in this case you trusted the broom, your magic, and yourself to keep you safe.

These sheltered greenery and shadows and sunlight were protections he was sure of, creations of his own.

It helped that he had a bit more of a vampire-influenced life now, combined with being a Master of Death. He knew well that the dark was none more worse than the light could be.

 

After several turns through the confusing greenery, Harry approached a specific clearing where a padlocked doorway rested in the centre, seemingly leading to nowhere. Just a doorway in the middle of an empty grass patch.

The stone arch of the doorway was decorated with snake motifs, a sign of Slytherin, or in this case, his descendents. The link to one Lord Voldemort.

Harry frowned as he got closer. The last he’d seen it, nothing dared grow around the door except for the darkest, thickest, briar thorns that his labyrinth could produce. Now though, there were hints of colour around the doorway, little green vines curling up the base of the stone arch. The purple flowers were still small little budding things, but with those angular leaves, he’d guess they were ivy. There were hints of other plants starting to take to life around too, granting colour to the grey impassive stones.

Harry did not know what to make of this new development. He had previously been sure that any lingering presence of Lord Voldemort had been left behind in that child-thing in the brilliant white of the not-station, which means that the living presence of one Tom Marvolo Riddle in this world should not have had any effect on the link. The horcrux was gone and the part of Tom’s soul that had once resided within Harry was still part of a whole.

He sure as hell hoped it did not mean that he was becoming a horcrux yet again, for that would mean he would have to kill himself, again. Just because he was the Master of Death did not make it any more pleasant for him.

Staring harder at the stone arch made not a difference. Deciding to leave it for later analysis, Harry grew out four more sturdy trees in each corner of the clearing, letting the thick trunks of oak grow up and beyond till the very branches reached each other, forming a heavily dense canopy that allowed a little trickle of light through. Protection, for just in case.

 

Harry opened his eyes to find the brownies still in his arms and a prickly feeling that let him know someone was staring at him, but not with any mal-intent. He cast a surreptitious gaze about, but he could not pinpoint a specific source of the presence. Breathing out, Harry noticed the pale cloud that escaped his mouth, and resisted a shiver. When had it suddenly gotten this cold? He felt as if his very soul was being scrutinised.

 

Tomb-cold paranoia, unknown floating presences, and a bloody flowering mindlink to a dark lord.

Harry sighed as he went into the house, wondering if a Dreamless Sleep would help chase the niggling presence away.

 

===

 

Somewhere in hidden dry cool highlands, a pale figure that had been unmoving and still, shifted in a slight rustle of robes.

 

His mind, solitary for so long, too long, suddenly seemed to have gained a road on the map, a new winding connection that lead into unexplored and foreign mists. It might easily have been another one of his “close friends” creating another newborn, however, the path was not branched from existing main lines. It seemed to connect directly to the doorstep of his fortress, cross his diamond-wrought gates and into his hallways.

 

He had never granted access to his personal mind chambers. Not since he took up his post to ensure no one ever got close enough to cause his downfall. However the bright light that seemed to be radiating from the very core of that curious thread of connection seemed almost … familiar. A sense of ease.

 

Predatory red eyes snapped open, calculation clear in their depths.

 

======

 

He’d discovered the other entrance, or exit, to the Chambers some what by accident.

 

Slytherin’s Locket, Ravenclaw’s Diadem, Hufflepuff’s Cup, and Gryffindor’s Sword had all underwent rough treatment over the recent years, so at the end of the war, it was finally  time to properly restore the four items and preserve them as the valuable tokens of the Founders that they are.

That had led to further questions on other legacies that the Founders may have left behind, and one thing led to another and on to him exploring the dark depths and caverns of the Chamber.

After having successfully coated himself in layers of cobwebs and dust so thick he could peel them off as a coat, he’d been struck with the idea to conjure up several snakes to scout ahead for him.

They’d all come back with several interesting results, including several rats that he’d have to chase out, and one of them had been an exit out into the Forbidden Forest.

 

Now, Harry travelled through the Forest and found the large boulder with the imprint of shedded snake skins. The clearing he was in had several boulders scattered randomly across the undergrowth, some larger than others, seemingly there for no reason other than an incident of nature. Except for the one which Harry now faced, whispering in parseltongue to gain entrance.

 

/Reveal./

 

The exit here was much like the one in the bathroom. The rock of the boulder descended down as firm practical steps carved themselves into the stone, leading down into inky darkness. When he’d first found it in the future - well, in his time - there had been no lamps or wall notches to light with fire. Attempting to bring illumination to the tunnels proved too tedious for him barely midway through the endless tunnels, hence Harry had then decided to just let the darkness be.

With the barest hesitation, Harry entered the unlit tunnel, using his old memories of the future version to guide his way through the familiar darkness, humming lightly under his breath. Harry huffed in amusement as he realised the tune he was vaguely replicating. Dovregubbens hall, Slytherin’s Chamber - here he was practically skipping gayly into the deep caverns of great great terrible boogeyme -

 

/What little creature dares intrude on my sleep?/

 

His happy tunes shuddered to a sudden stop when a harsh hissing pierced tthrough the darkness, loaded with extreme warning and hostility, freezing his movements better than any petrifying spell, flooding his veins with instinctual fear.

 

Oh crap.

 

He’d conveniently forgotten about a certain still-alive basilisk.

Harry dared not swallow despite his suddenly dry throat, heart beating loud in his head. Hoping for the best, Harry hissed out a tentative attempt at appeasement.

 

/Please, Great Basilisk, calm yourself, for I mean no harm nor foul/

Harry could practically feel the basilisk rearing up in surprise, though he could not see the giant snake, thankfully. Still, paranoia had Harry closing his eyes.

/Who are you, stranger, who speaks thy tongue?/

 

Well, curiosity killed the cat and tickled the giant snake. Hopefully it saves the dull human.

/My name is Sacha Evans. Well, i’m just Sacha, nobody much special. You’d be…?/

 

Oh great job, Harry. Meet the great snake of Slytherin and ask for its name of all things. What next, a date?

Harry bit down on his slightly hysterical ramblings and focused his ears on the serpent somewhere before him in the black.

The serpent gave the equivalent of a hum of contemplation - which was basically an unintelligible hiss.

 

/Many have screamed and cowered in fear before me, but few have called my name in many many passings… Master once, very long ago, gifted me the name of  Zmeyares.../

 

Huh. That was… surprising yet not. Trust the old man Slytherin to blatantly name his serpent for what it is.

The sound of dry scales could be heard moving around him. Harry guessed that she was roughly ten o’clock from him. Pity it was a game with no peeking allowed.

 

He startled slightly to feel a slight disturbance in the air, far far closer to his face than he’d estimated. A tongue tasting his emotions then?

 

/Sspeak human.. What do you do here? I am ready to eat anytime.../

 

The tricky part was that Slytherin’s Basilisk would only heed the orders of the Heir of Slytherin, but that did not rule out peaceful cooperation from the snake. And in dealing with snakes, the common thing was always to know what the other would want.

 

/An honour it is to know your name, Zmeyares. I have a proposition for you that i feel you might be interested in. I require use of your Master’s Chambers, and wish to be able to enter and move freely. In exchange for your promise that no harm shall befall me within these walls, I will guarantee my company and my willing help in whatever you may need, so long it is not to the point of mass murder.//

 

//What do you wish to do in this home Master made for me?/

 

//Well, i was hoping i could maybe share this home with you. At the very least, i know your Master left many secrets behind, secrets that i require knowledge of./

 

Zmeyares hissed, a gust of air across his face. His body screamed for him to flee. 

//Master bid me to protect this home from those who seek to upset this sanctury!!/

 

//Peace! Taste my words for lies, when i say i mean no harm to your master nor his creations, even you. I only wish to reside by you in this place and learn its ways. Would you be so kind to share with me?/

 

The pause in conversation was poignant. Negotiations with snakes were hard when they could easily taste the air for any ill intent. Which Harry thankfully did not have. He did not even harbour any resentment towards the serpent, not even for his old forgotten arm wound (which was technically caused by his own actions of sticking his arm up the old basilisk’s mouth - crude but effective). As he had long since learnt - the means to an end is all that truly matters.

 

//You taste of strange scents for a human… not so human as your skin seems to be. Almost dry, like the taste of old battlegrounds and dead prey. Curious little human.  

Very well. I will allow your presence, as so soothe my curiosity. You will also accede to my requests for food and freedom out of my home when i demand./

 

It was phrased like a sentence, yet Harry could somehow sense a petulant little question in it. Much like the false bravado of a child when they wanted to insist on something but wasn’t truly confident. Harry suddenly felt a strange wave of amusement and sense of endearment for the huge snake that was, despite its size and age,well, like an adorable.. well, reptile.

 In the end, the basilisk... Zmeyares, though clearly much more intelligent and wiser, whether by age or simply of breed, was in the end no more malevolent nor evil than any other creature, which was practically none when unprovoked. She lived of every rule any living being needed to to survive. But having survival only, sometimes stretches even the greatest Basilisk to its limits.

 

//I will. Would you promise not to kill me were i to meet your eyes?//

 

//You have my word, speaker Ssacha, until the day i lose yours./

 

Harry opened his eyes to meet unblinking yellow ones hidden behind , set on a familiar face that had once long ago been trying to take a giant chunk out of the 12 year-old him. Harry whispered to life a triplet of glowing white balls, a trick he created from getting tired of the limitations of lumos. He kept their light dimmed down, just enough for him to see his companion.

 

Bigger than he remembered, yet smaller than he’d imagined, Zmeyares was only visible for about a foot, the rest of her body hidden by the dark twist of the tunnels. Now that he wasn’t faced with the possibility of losing limbs or life, Harry could fully admire how much a beauty she really was.

A King among serpents indeed. Or Queen, taking into account Zmeyares. Her scales were beautiful, iridescent green and her body coiled proudly, muscles taut and relaxed, a sight to behold. Though more of a forgotten relic - her scales could be seen as unkempt in areas, dust and cobwebs clinging to her. Years of isolation and bare sustenance in ageless sleep had not been kind to such a magnificent creature.

 

Harry reached out one tentative hand, coming to a pause in front of the snake’s snout.

A forked tongue flickered out to taste him.

 

//Lead me to the main chambers, dear Zmeyares.//

 

===== (and then they proceed to braid each other’s non-existent long hair into plaits and share snakey gossips under the bootiful stars.)

 

Long ago, during the times when Hogwart’s stones were still new and settling in their groves, a male wizard who was one of a quartet that was gaining increasing fame, stood in a spacious chamber distances below ground. The air was warm despite the chamber’s cool appearance, with the cavernous walls emitting a faint humming that radiated heat. In the very middle of that chamber, where the man currently stood, was an enormously large egg, nestled on a deep cushion. The egg and cushion seemed out of place, being the only object on the floor of the echoing cavern.

 

Crouching low, the man with eyes of the darkest forest brought his hands to cup the egg, tanned fingers caressing the cream-white shell beneath.

 

Inside, barely protected by the brittle hard shell, lay a magical life growing, once merely a small egg beneath a toad. When it is born, the being inside would serve the purpose its Master has cultivated it for.

 

With each word, and meaning, its Master sent with his magic into the serpent, willing it to grow greater than any other Basilisk before.

 

It will live to grow within this tunnels, this grand Chambers that its Master calls his own and which shall be the serpent’s own home. She will have the duty of protecting the sanctuary it is, and to abide by the rules meted out by Master. Speaking the tongue of serpents, she was to be a beast untameable, only born to obey the very orders of Slytherin’s true Heir and to aid his Heir’s goals.

 

As a little afterthought, her Master added in a little clause. Should an old friend, now spoken of only in tales, decide to inject his interference, she were to act as a guardian, a presiding watcher, to ensure that any interactions between his line and the other may be successful in any endeavour towards the preservation of Magic in all its purest forms. Death may agree with his values, but he still did not put it past Death to play with his Heir's plans. 

  
  
Many centuries later, when truth has become myth and memories legends, when a particular raven-haired man managed to cajole the very serpent hatched of the egg, the very magic that had been evoked then stirred in curious anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRALALALA  
> like said, this chapter still irks me in placements, and excessive words...  
> i don't know. 
> 
> hopefully another time later when reviewing it'll become clearer. 
> 
> Oh yeah and haha the name for the Basilisk, forgive me for my lack of creativity and innovation.  
> Naming a giant snake a snake. OTL


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Teaching Standards in Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello.  
> wow , would you look at that, last updated in November 2014 , tada /o/ and today's 12/7/15 better late than never  
> hope you enjoy this chapter i managed to scrub out during my lucid-not-fatigued periods after/before work ahah i struggled too many times trying to bridge gaps or make sense of timelines and story flow, and where i first only had 1k, i exceeded my normal limit of max 3.5k, so i had to cut it off....there.  
> do let me know if you spot any egregious mistakes made (i'm sure there are some, somewhere) (i already went through a few times and each brought up more mistakes or jumps in logic that made even myself wonder what happened.)  
> ta!

“You are remarkably young to have had experience teaching.”

 

“Now now, Albus, age is but a frivolous number, yes?”

 

“I’ve taught Fifth Year Defense, some flying too, if it counts.” Harry quirked up a smile at the blue eyes that dared twinkle at him. That made him wonder if Dumbledore had even been born with the bloody twinkle. And how poor Aberforth could ever have stood it.

 

“Your alma mater, then? You’d have to forgive me if I do not recognise you from our students, nor do you bear the air of a Durmstrang student.” Was Albus always this suspicious, or was it something triggering his extra caution? Harry wondered, while focusing on thinking nice, friendly, Gryffindor thoughts, like dinner – mmm, more melted chocolate pudding.

 

“I travelled from each community following various Masters in their areas of study for my last three years, including the African community and the Carpathian region, where I last was before settling down here as the unrest spread from the Dark Lord’s campaigns made travelling no longer safe. I figured teaching would be the best way for me to do good with the knowledge I’d gained.”

With the little tidbits of information he’d dangled, their attentions were diverted from the nitty bitty issue of his past. Plus, Albus may have paled slightly at the mention of his old lover, Harry noting as the older man sought to speed up the hiring process.

Having seen the past-Dumbledore before in pensieve saved him from the shock of meeting an auburn-haired Dumbledore, who had met him at the gates and lead the way to the Headmaster. It had all gone swimmingly well, even more so now as he realised how easy it was to become a teacher.

Ridiculously easy.

 

Magic certainly has its benefits in that documents are not needed when one simply needs a magical oath of compliance to the terms of teaching. His surprise when he had researched that during his planning stages was filled with exasperation. It made him wonder if Dumbledore had been so right to deny Riddle the teaching position even with his suspicions of his character – surely the Teachers’ Oath could have kept the Slytherin heir in check, or even make one of his own as extra precaution.

 

“Well, we certainly have been in a pinch in finding a replacement for Merrythought so soon, but it seems you’ve appeared in the nick of time!” Headmaster Dippet seemed to be a rather easy-going man, one who seemed overly flighty or flimsy, albeit a bit direct or tactless at times, but nonetheless, he was the Headmaster, so be it.

 

A few signed parchments later, Harry became the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Professor Evans.

Thankfully the parchments had not needed any True names, or else a certain twinkly-eyed long-bearded man might have become an annoyance obsessed with his bloodline had ‘Peverell’ chosen to appear. There had also been a few anxiety-filled moments when Dumbledore had cast his gaze upon his illusioned Elder wand - made to look almost like his old Holly wand, but the older man’s gaze only contained cursory curiosity.

 

“Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Sacha Evans.”

=========

 

Signs of how truly stagnant the Wizarding World was was apparent as the Defense room was no different from the one of his time. It was probably only thanks to the magical presence imbued into Hogwarts that allowed Hogwarts herself to keep her walls upright and strong even after half a millennium since the Founders.

Harry was just settling down at the desk - his desk now - after tweaking a few pre-existing wards and adding on a few protective layers to his liking, when a loud series of knocks announced a visitor outside his door. His newly installed wards included one to scan the top layer of emotions of those within the vicinity of his room, and this visitor had barely contained curiosity practically overflowing through the ward’s senses.

He barely opened the door an inch before the bustling figure of one Professor Horace Slughorn burst in and claimed the quiet with his boistrous voice, heading straight for the desk. Harry stood aside, still by the doorway, as he watched Slughorn unload his armful burdens - bottles of spirits, it seemed - and continued to exclaim about the opening feast in the night to come and how he certainly should not miss his own party he was holding in the dungeons, very posh and exclusive, of course - wait.

Harry hurried (lol) to halt  Slughorn in his further elaboration on his fabulous party.

“Professor Slughorn (“Please, call me Horace, we are colleagues yes?”), your invitation is certainly generous but I am sorry to say I’ll have to reject as I simply have not prepared a single bit for the classes soon to start! No doubt I’ll be swamped with the new students and assimilating my ways to their pre-established habits. I am not so much a party person myself.” Harry added, though he was certain most of his words just flew through Slughorn’s ears.

“Nonsense, m’boy. Merrythought has had a ridiculously detailed curriculum all planned out for years and knowing that old bat, all materials have been taken care of. I expect to see you at the party enjoying the fine mulled wine that my darling ex-student, now a very successful owner of her own franchise, sent as a gift to thank me for giving her a little boost when she graduated those years ago. Nothing a good teacher shouldn’t do to help his bests and brightests, eh?”

The conversation - or the one-man dialogue supplied by Slughorn continued in much of the same fashion, leaving Harry resigned with a gleaming gold-glittering invitation to the exclusive party at 8 in the evening that Friday which was on the third day of school reopening, warnings of unique and exotic beings in the guestlist beware invitees to not be alarmed if the food spread included some strange fare.

 

Reluctant as he was, Harry was more curious than not as to how and who will be present at the party, and what information he could possibly gain.

 

 

 

Watching Dippet commence the Welcome Feast with his harried announcements was an interesting contrast to Dumbledore’s typically whimsical speeches. Both curt yet rambling, Dippet stated the usual warnings of safety and conduct, and that of administrative matters that seemed more required of Head of Houses - but to each his own, in the case of Headmasters.

 

Dippet, of course, included his own introduction of the new DADA teacher.

“I am sure all students have been well informed of Professor Merrythought’s retirement. Allow me to introduce Professor Evans, who will take over her position as the new Defence teacher. Professor Evans has come from various Wizarding Communities in is travel-studies, so do give him the proper Hogwarts welcome.”

After a brief pause where students, teachers, and Harry alike hesitated and wondered if it be their cue to react, the students started a slow tentative applause that rose into the clamour of a proper “Hogwarts welcome” as expected.

As the House tables filled up with food ladened in heaps, and smaller, more practical, portions of food appeared before him on the staff table, Harry’s mind was pre-occupied as he ladled some food while running his thumb over the signet of his newly-gotten Family Ring, the relatively light-weighted ring resting on his left forefinger.

The final process had much been like that of wand-making and wand-choosing, selecting the stones and metals for the ring and allowing his magic to shape the signet. When the lightshow of awe and literal magic had ended, Harry had been half expecting an ironic lion, griffin, or snake to appear. A big cat had certainly been chosen, but not the usual symbol of Gryffindors. The panthera onca, the melanistic jaguar more commonly known as a black panther, had its silhouette etched into onyx-matt stone, seemingly fused seamlessly to the metal of the ring. The revelation had been rather… anti-climatic. It had felt like making a realisation that your subconscious had long ago accepted. It had felt, right.  

An imperceptible jolt went through him as Harry recognised the dark head of neatly-combed hair on the regal head of one who knew he was above the mass of students who were partaking in the feast around him. Harry took notice of those who sat around the young Voldemort in his little established hierarchy, especially the young Malfoy-lookalike on the left and the quiet girl on his right. If his suspicions were right, the girl with deep-set onyx eyes might well be the Prince that beget Snape that he knew in the future.

A jovial hand slapped his shoulder. Slughorn had turned his attentions from trying cajole the placid Herbology Professor Beery into venturing into the more profitable side to his greenhouse plants, to the noticeably quiet new professor by his other side.

“I see you’ve noticed my rising stars in my House! Malfoy, of course, as expected of his bloodline. Certain to follow his father in the Wizegamot, I expect. Prince is my little protégé, makings of a Potions Master that one. Lestrange is performing well in both academics and Quidditch, though I am looking for him to join his father in the business of trading of many valuable artifacts and potion ingredients between the Communities.”

Harry hummed noncommittally. “What of the boy beside Malfoy?”

Slughorn’s eyes took on a gleam. “Ah, that is Tom Riddle, a brilliant, brilliant child with a bright future ahead, I am sure. Top in almost all his classes, impeccable manners, a good leader among his peers too. Pity his bloodline though. Certainly what would be an unexpected phoenix risen amongst peacocks. He is the new Head Prefect too, all as expected of such a top student.” Slughorn added with a self-satisfied wink.

Harry could barely control his mirth. Voldemort, a fluffy pretentious peacock. A preening white albino peacock, with his beady red eyes. Though, it seems Slughorn has very thoroughly wiped his own memory of the horcrux conversation, seeing how the large man continued to joke with candor about his other less-outstanding students.

Said boy turned his head as if sensing the scrutiny and met the eyes of his professors. The young Dark-Lord-to-be inclined his head demurely, as expected from a Prefect f great poise. Slughorn could be practically felt beaming at the young man, as Harry opted to keep his expression neutral even as he tested waters, reaching out to the mind through the gaze that still met his. A cursory brush showed not the expected impenetrable fortress. White space, white pristine space was what he managed to catch a gleam of, before he had darted away like a hand afraid of a flame’s burn.

 

He lowly murmured back to Slughorn.

“I look forward to their performances in class then.”

===

 

The Slytherin common room was usually quiet, with only the muted sounds of respectable conversation being held in the various clusters of students scattered around, as expected of the House the promoted proper upbringing and manners that came with Purity.

 

Today, not quite so.

Try as might, the first years were barely keeping the buzz of excitement below acceptable volumes, as they each tried to interject more opinions on the new Professor’s lesson.

 

“Did you see when he first entered- “

“I know! Do you think those were also - “

“I do not think even my Uncle has ever heard of anyone - “

 

Lestrange seemed actively engaged in gathering as much information as he could from eavesdropping, sieving out pertinent details. He gave a smirk to the others of his group.

 

“Seems like the new Professor is a hit with his unorthodox methods. It seems that he would be a very drastic change from Merrythought strict no-nonsense regime.”

 

Malfoy raised a pale eyebrow. “Unorthodox or not, as long as the Professor doesn’t ditter about like Binns, he should not be a concern. After all, we are in our final year, the rest should be up to our own standards.”

 

Lestrange opened his mouth as if to argue, but a quick glance at their leader showed the young Dark Lord looking up from his book to stare seemingly placidly at Lestrange, eyes half-veiled as if daring - no, not daring; just stating with no uncertain qualms what would happen should the other decide to be a noisy hindrance to their studies. He snapped his mouth close and buried his nose in the essay he was in the midst of.

As uneasy silence - uneasy for Lestrange, that is - pervaded the elite group, the only female of the group deigned to comment on the topic.

“We shall see for ourselves if this Professor is worth our efforts.”

 

 

 

At half past four, the seventh year Slytherins and Gryffindors were gathered outside the DADA classroom, the usual tension present between the two houses, though the generally more matured minds of the seventh-years allowed them to wait outside the room without causing much trouble other than a few exchanged insults in barbed conversations. All were full of anticipation and curiosity, fueled by the reactions of the upper years who have had already gone through their first lesson before the seventh years. Many of them had seemed almost shaken, in a curious mix of fear and awe.

 

The elites of Slytherin were gathered strategically at the front of the crowd and hence were the first to enter when the classroom door swung open to admit the students.

As the conversations muted and the students streamed in, the Professor could be seen sitting at his desk, keen eyes observing each pupil as they entered. The first to enter was, of course, Riddle, leading his entourage who were then quickly followed by the rest of the students..

Though keeping his expression neutral, mirth was bubbling in him as Harry still could not get over the fact that Riddle had such a pronounced nose bridge. It must have been quite a shock when Voldemort had first regained his body - unless of course his insanity already wiped out any care he had for looks, which would explain a lot. Harry wiped all inappropriate thoughts from his head and clapped his hands together once the last of stragglers have entered, regarding the class that looked up at him with varied levels of anticipation and interest.

 

“I trust you all know my name by now, though for the sake of any who have been unfortunately absent or otherwise preoccupied, my name is Professor Evans, and yes, I may sound British but I am not familiar with these parts, so you may stop trying to discern my background and focus on the lesson at hand.” Harry gave a pointed look to those who had started trading speculations with friends.

“Most of you have undergone Merrythought’s curriculum for your past six years and hence, if you have been consistently surviving till now, I expect the basic level of competency. With such competency, I also expect a decency _to pay attention while I am addressing you, Mr Weasley_.”

At the harsher emphasis of his last few words, the class turned around even as a sheath of parchments were tugged from beneath the arms of one Septimus Weasley into the outstretched palm of the professor in front of the class. The class was half abuzz at the show of wandless and wordless magic, the Slytherins sneering at the Gryffindor whose ears were now red as his hair, the blush spreading down his neck.

“I admire your hardworking persistence, Mr Weasley, but there is a time and place for everything, and my lesson is not the place for Herbology essays.”

 

Seeing as he had the class’ attention, Harry stood up to pace the front. He tucked his hands behind his back, though not for long, as he returned his hands to freely gesture to his audience.  

“Textbooks and reference guides are all available for your own reading, and seeing as you are all mature adults, you should be able to know when you should actively seek help to clarify any matters on your own. I will set up a schedule outside my room, and should you wish to meet me, write your name upon the parchment and once I’ve acknowledged it, tardiness is not appreciated.  

 

What I _will_ do in these classes is to practise what you’ve read, and of course, teach you what you have not.”

 

At this, Harry summoned a horde of glowing orbs, sending one each to hover in front of a student. Waiting for the rush of awed murmurs and surprised exclaims to die down, Harry finally allowed the mischievous grin he’d been pushing down to tug the corners of his mouth unnoticed as the attention of all were on the lights. When everyone was suitably enamoured by the glowing bulbs, reminiscent of fishy prey of an Anglerfish of the deep, he he sent out a burst of magic and allowed the bulbs to burst into flames and drop a rather nasty unwelcome surprise onto the desks of every student.

 

Screams immediately filled the room, chairs turned over as some scrambled mindlessly away in fear, heedless of their surroundings or any concern for fellow classmates.

Chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
>  CHAOS /o/
> 
> hm. i originally aimed to cover several other points in this chapter but as mentioned, it exceeded my preferred 3k limit darnit. 
> 
> TILL NEXT TIME 
> 
> (do let me know your thoughts yeah? cheers.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of chaos, an abruptly short party, and rude immortals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inserts crazed laughter as i just realised i will never know what i am doing omg save me where is this story going - to Out-of-hand land it is traveling at the speed of light come back here story when did you bleach your hair and get 873 piercings, disappointed you no invite me along tsk sorry i high.  
> EDIT 15/8/15: I reread and i found plenty of parts where the flow could have been better directed, hence some insertions.

He’d thought after doing this for the fourth and fifth years, he would tire of the flailings of the students, but he took it all back - it was even more hilarious as the nearly-adults ran around the room like children half their age. Harry shook his head as if to clear his ears, when a girl’s screech of terror took on new heights. Pity he disliked muffling his senses, even if he could spare his eardrums the screams.

Some were collapsed on the floor, cornered by spitting three-headed cobras, while others were waving the tomes called textbooks at the medium-sized spiders (no spider is ever considered ‘large’ after one has encountered Aragog) waving their spindly fangs at them. One particular student was enthusiastically sending curses at everything that moved, though Harry failed to see how a Jelly-legs curse would impede a cottonmouth snake.

 

Once he deemed that enough chaos, tears, and blood, had reigned, Harry willed the creatures he’d summoned to grow placid and tame; snakes slithering away from the students, spiders scuttling into the shadows, toads reverting to placid statues that occasionally burst out in a jarring croak; and soon the students were back to wary tense silence, most still stiff in their cowering positions, scattered across the room. Whether due to his magic, or the slightly warmer ambience Harry'd charmed over his desk for comfort, the creatures all gravitated towards him, several snakes working their way up his legs to settle upon his shoulders, basking in warmth against the brisk cool dungeon air of the classroom pitched from chaos to deathly silence.

Sniffles and harsh breathing were the only sounds present, even as Harry surveyed the scene and smiled genially at the traumatised students.

 

The only students still remaining in their seats were of course, the young Mr Riddle, and surprisingly, Miss Prince. Harry had noted that when his own orb had turned into a rare crimson bush viper, poisonous and fearsome as it looked, Riddle had remained stoic, the paling of his features and widening of eyes the only sign of his shock. The clamour of panicked students made it impossible for Harry to ascertain whether Riddle had commanded the snake to rest in parseltongue, but the result was the baby Voldemort staring calmly at the deceptively harmless coil of snake slumbering placidly upon his desk.  The Potions protege had jumped at the sudden appearance of the spindly spider, but she’d promptly cast a charm on the spider to immobilise it and transfigured her quill into a glass dome to hold her capturee. A green aura pulsed around their creatures, along with a handful of others, while majority of the reptiles, amphibians, arachnids, had a damning red glow about, further distinguishing the two Slytherins from the class. Those two returned his gaze with awareness behind their eyes, no doubt having figured out the test he had just conducted on the class.

Said class that was still scattered across the room.

“Please, return to your seats.” With a wave, Harry righted their chairs, and a wiggle of fingers sent the furniture flying back to their proper arrangements. As the students still hesitated to move, Harry snapped his fingers. “Now, please.” The scramble that followed was more than half fearful. Harry sighed internally. It seems he may have scared some a tad too much.  

 

“Congratulations Mr Weasley, Mr Fawley, and Miss Black, for your timely recovery and response and good use of spells, despite your fears and initial panic.10 points for the each of you. Mr Carrow, you did wise to try and eliminate the threat, but Bombarda is generally better for hitting large targets, and your aim could truly do better as the state of my classroom could attest to that, but i admit you managed in defeating your dastardly foe in the end.

Mr Black, while spells are indeed your number one weapon of offense, do remember to select your spells to suit the enemy - or you may one day face a Dementor with a useless Stupefy."

Harry turned away from the sheepish boy, who cringed in chagrin after taking in the holes that dotted the classroom, some still smoking slightly, to regard the top two performers in the class.

“Mr Riddle, Miss Prince, congratulations on being the only ones to have kept your calm and control of the situation without having to deciminate your creatures. Calm in the face of chaos is a very valuable skill - though you should remember that most living beings do require air to breathe, Miss Prince, so do remember adding holes to your cage should you choose to capture a foe in the future. 30 points to Slytherin each for the two of you.”

 

Harry paused to lean forward in his chair, staring each student down until he was certain each and every gaze was upon him, tearfully-wavering or solemnly-serious or not.

“How many of you forgot you were still in class? How many of you forgot that you were witches, wizards - with magic at your fingertips? Just because you could not find the words or your wand in hand, you resorted to fleeing, like _useless prey_. To the muggleborns, I would give some leeway, but truly, all of you have gone through these six years of schooling, you should be well versed and used to magic. Indeed, there are a few of you that did remember your wands, but with all the spells you shouted out, did any achieve what you wanted?

 _Magic_.

It is not a tool or equipment, this extra accessory you take out to use when you need to. We, in this Magical Community, are blessed, gifted with this extra ability to access and use something that is part of us. It is not a quill you pick up to write with, but a limb of your body that you use to take each breath. Natural, ingrained, and logical - _Magic_.

And _that_ is what I hope to achieve, by the end of your final year here with Hogwarts.

 

I expect a foot and a half long essay on panic and its reactions, direction of topic to your own discretion, and a foot and half means no more or less. Choose your words wisely over these two days and submit by the Saturday morning. Dismissed.”

His abrupt dismissal left the students as if startling out of a dream fugue, but soon enough, tentative murmurs started up even as students scrambled out to freedom.

 

Harry waited until the young Voldemort was passing by his desk to whisper softly to one of the snakes coiled in front of him. //Thank you for your assistance today, I apologise for having interrupted your sleep.//

As the snake hissed back a reply of it having been an acceptable source of entertainment, Harry hid a smirk as he noticed how Riddle’s head had jerked in an aborted move to turn around.

Getting the attention of the young Slytherin heir was easy. Now as the interest slowly built, Harry had to be careful how Riddle would perceive his Professor Evans, in order to gain a greater influence over the young Slytherin.

 

======

 

Harry wondered if such blatant stupidity or pure laziness had been so prevalent amongst his peers during his own schooling years - himself included. After setting aside yet another essay by a third-year that contained a remarkable amount of words for having made exactly one point only, dithering about the main topic like his aunt over Dudley’s Sunday clothes, Harry forced himself to take a break and pushed back from his desk.

 

Eyeing the clock on his desk (the muggleborns and some half-bloods had recognised it and it had gained him some unintended points of respect from them, according to gossips he overheard), Harry heaved a sigh. He needed to prepare for Slughorn’s party soon or risk being late - and he did not want to garner any more attention than he would already be getting. He thought of Zmeyares whom he’d last seen coiling up ready to nap after the snack he’d brought her - a few large rats he’d caught from the Forest, and wished he could do the same, curl up and sleep without a care for the world. When he’d grumbled to her, Zmeyares had just hacked out a hissing laugh and stated that he should just kill those that annoy him like any respectable snake would do, and stop interrupting her nap.

Right now he just wished he could Avada himself a few minutes to escape the world and not put on the new robes he’d bought on his trip to Diagon Alley. Sure it was the 1940s but he had a niggling feeling the seamstress was having him on - did people need to wear so many tight-fitting restrictive layers? He’d been too distracted by all her cooing and disconcerting excitement of having a “virgin buyer” - that’d sent unwanted shivers of apprehension down his spine - to have paid attention to what other shoppers had bought.

Harry pulled on the high collar of the form-fitting top he’d been given, deep green “to bring out your eyes, those pretty orbs should not be hidden” with gold pipings, mentally grumbling as he re-adjusted the chain that the Resurrection Stone hung on around his neck for the umpteenth time. Underneath all the layers, the corners of the stone kept digging in uncomfortably. With an ill-tempered growl, he fished it out from his inner layer to rest on top of his shirt, the stone just hidden by the waistcoat-like layer. Layers, too many layers. What was wrong with one simple cloak over a shirt and pants?

 

Formal wear, his ass.  

This party had better been worth the torture of even getting into these clothes.

 

====(visuals: imagine leyendecker combined with sakizo’s flair of details)

 

Was he ever glad for the high collar of his shirt. The next time he saw that seamstress he would give her the greatest tip ever.

 

“Your scent is interestingly alluring.”

 

Harry had barely registered a sense of cold dry danger before a voice had spoken over his shoulder, only a slight cool shift in air against the small sliver of skin exposed at the nape of his neck to indicate how close the speaker was. _Vampire_.

Making sure he widened the distance between him and the unknown vampire, Harry turned around to regard the rude vampire who had basically breached niceties having spoken with his mouth so so close to his neck. A head of pale wispy locks, pale green eyes deep set, and sharp cheekbones and pointed chin that were unusual for Russians, and thin lips quirked up into a smile that radiated all niceness and pleasant lack of any ill-intent at all. All something that would feature in the imaginations of young maidens swooning over pretty pale beauties they imagine elves or vampires to be - a perfectly bred Vampire made for luring. Said vampire was smiling guilelessly at him.

Lesson number 1 with his old tutor: A vampire always has at least three motives under his sleeve. The more innocent a vampire looks, the damned-der you are.

Still. _Rude_.

 

“Excuse me, are you barely 300? For your manners are certainly remissed i-”

“Ah, Sacha Evans - the man I’d been looking for! There you are, I wondered where you fluttered off to. I had to hear from my own students that you had arrived!”

 

Slughorn to the rescue, bustling in between Harry and the vampire now smirking a tad more obviously. As Harry exchanged greetings with Slughorn, the man who had been trailing behind the Potions Professor stepped up, and give a man a prize - another vampire.

“Allow me to introduce, Ambassador for the White Vampires, Eduard Du Val, and his scion Modeste Smirnov. Ambassador, this is our new addition to Hogwarts, Professor Evans, the Defense Against Dark Arts Professor. I see you and the young Smirnov are already on the way to be good friends, yes?”

The Ambassador was more a typical angular faced Frenchman, dressed stiffly in a style Harry remembers seeing his old tutor in, fanciful doublet-like tunic layered in swathes of draped cloth. (and pantyhose tights, of course, but he removed that from his mind because it would only make him burst out in laughter)

A vampire of at least the Middle Ages, Harry guessed.

Giving a small nod that ensured his neck wasn’t exposed, Harry greeted the Ambassador as taught, folding his hand in front of him to show he held no weapons nor concealed any within reach. _Never ever offer a vampire your outstretched hand_.

“Greetings, Ambassador. I have to admit much that I have travelled, I am unfamiliar with the specifics of White Vampires, so do excuse me if I mistakenly offend.”

The Ambassador gave a tight smile, no teeth shown, which was good. Unless that only applied to Red Vampires. Bugger, why did he not read up on the different vampire etiquettes? Oh, because he was busy marking his mountain of essays.

“Horace here has told me much of the new Professor, yet remarkably much is a mystery of you still. I hear your methods are an interesting breath of fresh air in this school. I would very much like to meet you privately at another juncture, when my duties as Ambassador do not avail me of leisure time. For now, perhaps my scion may converse with you and enlighten what curiosities you may have.”

Fantastic.

And based on the grin that widely showed teeth, Teenage Vampire certainly thought so too. _Fan_ tastic.

 

As Horace left Harry behind with T.V., Harry subtly headed towards the food table, seeking some refreshments, and if he wanted some liquid courage no one was going to stop him. The vampire was already regarding him as prey, so he had no worries about increasing his tastefulness. Said vampire was still hovering silently beside him, close enough to encroach on his personal bubble, hands swaying as he walked alongside Harry. Harry eyed those hands mistrustfully - if he dared so much brush against him…

Seeing as the Teenage Vampire still followed his every step despite him mentally shouting the equivalent of 'ew, vampire cooties!', Harry resorted to more drastic measures. Nothing like insult to make a vampire lose interest - in a way.

“So, Modeste Smirnov, you certainly are a rather large stone-throw away from what your name would intend - high hopes from parents? Your Sire seems impeccably well-mannered.” Unlike you.

 

It did not anger the vampire as he’d hoped, merely making the gleam in those eyes become even more disconcerting.

“Ah, did no one ever warn you not to poke at a vampire’s past?”

See me be unconcerned as you flash your shiny fangs. Reaching the corner table that held the punch, wine, and other unknown liquors, Harry caught a glimpse of a familiar black head, surprisingly on its own.

“I am known for my appalling lack of courtesy. The effort is wasted on me and there is a reason I am in teaching, not politics. Though apparently in teaching, my methods are also just as unorthodox.

Just ask Riddle here, I set a poisonous snake on him for his first lesson.”

 

Making eye contact with the young Slytherin, Harry made a split-second decision and dove in. Literally. Into Riddle’s mind.

_Do not react, Mr Riddle, but I would greatly appreciate if you could please help me get rid of this unwanted nuisance. And yes, I will owe you some answers._

Riddle’s eyes had barely widened, but other than that, there were no visible signs of anything untoward even as Riddle turned to face them.

 

And wow, he’d known Riddle was a charmer, but boy had he under-estimated the young Dark-Lord-to-be. He sounded sincerely earnest. Bashful, even.

 

“Professor Evans! I am so fortunate to meet you here! I was hoping to get some time alone with you but I was afraid that I would waste your time if I put my queries in your scheduled after-lesson slots.”

 

Riddle turned his body towards T.V. though he kept his gaze on Harry, as if besotted.

“Ah, Master Smirnov, good to see you again.” Oh? Young Slytherin had met Teenage Vampire before. “Professor Evans did drop a snake on my desk then, but thank goodness I am a fond fan of snakes, so I recognised that it would not hurt me,” Harry scoffed internally - he’d specifically asked the creatures to be as antagonistic as they liked, “but others were not as fortunate with huge leaping spiders and spitting cobras.”

T.V. opened his mouth to probably interject his own pique interest and ‘need to see more’, but Riddle once more out-performed and cut in.

“In fact, Professor, would you mind helping me out now? I was in utter shambles (wow) wondering how I’d even complete my task in time - and here you are!” Riddle was really going to try and dig out every bit of leverage he could from him after this.

Acting his part as a suddenly benevolent teacher, Harry acquiesced his request.

“Well, it seems my attentions are needed away from this party. Pity. I would say till next time, but I doubt we would ever meet again, so enjoy your visit, Master Smirnov, and give your Sire my regards.”

Harry resisted the urge to sing “So long, farewell, and thanks for all the fish!” as he herded Riddle out of the party.

 

Bustling off to escape his short-lived appearance at the party, Harry missed as the spurned vampire met the gaze of his Sire from across the room, the two exchanging a nod that signalled something not quite well for the intriguing Professor that somehow had a hint of death and undead.

 

===

 

It seemed time and fate decided to give him a wee bit reprieve tonight, after a bout with disturbing vampires.

 

He’d had just escorted Riddle out of the rooms the party was held in, when Dumbledore strolled up to the duo, snacking on what seemed to be a bag of Bertie’s Beans, interrupting the awkward-tense silence that had been building between the two dark-haired wizards.

Twinkling good-naturedly, his eyes might still be, Dumbledore did seem more intently focused on the Slytherin boy, as if hoping that the umpteenth time staring would finally unlock a puzzle and land a mystery in his hands. Or evidence of heinous deeds, not mystery, that is.

The robes on the man, though. The red went so horridly well with his hair only because it was so garish it went one whole circle to being fitting. Harry winced internally for his, and all other people’s, eyes sake.

 

“Good evening, gentlemen! Care for a bean? I just ate one snot flavour, so perhaps the next might be a delightful peach.” Dumbledore greeted, gesturing with his bag of jellies.

“Evening to you too, Professor Dumbledore. It’s alright, I’d rather not chance it after the horrid surprise of cockroach.” Harry replied.

As the necessary pleasantries seem deemed to be over, Dumbledore zoned in on Riddle.

“It is nice to see you out of class, but isn’t it a tad late for you to be out of the dorms? If I remember Goodfield’s schedule, today would be her turn at night patrol. A Head Prefect has to set good examples, Mr. Riddle.” Dumbledore’s voice took on a chiding tone that made Harry feel a slight bit of pity. Only a little.

Still, the Slytherin did help him avoid a potential bloodbath of politics with bloodsuckers, so.

“It is no worry, I had been lending my time to Mr. Riddle here, and the discussion got away from me before I realised the time. I am just about to send him off to the dorms.” Harry cut in, diverting Dumbledore's attention back to him.

“Ah, the joy of discussing one’s passion with a young mind. Well off you go, you two then. It is a good thing you are with young Mr. Riddle. I hear that Slughorn has invited his usual array of Magical creatures, some who may not be too proper around students.”

 

The two waited till the Transfiguration Professor walked round the corner (and after Harry had cast a discreet Muffliato) before turning to each other. Harry spoke before the young Slytherin could.

“What he said is true, that it is late and dangerous for you to be out. Return to your dorm. You can set up a meeting with me via the class schedule, and we will discuss this then. Go.”

 

The young man clearly bristled at being ordered and dismissed, but the promise of a returned discussion tamped down the refutes he probably had. After a curt farewell of “See you, Professor” with a nod, the young man strode off to the dormitories, belying any frustration or fury with his natural grace in his steps. (Except for the angst that hung off any 'wronged' teenager.)

 

Harry sighed, watching him go off. This escalated plans a bit. But all the same, it all depended on how well he could sway the Slytherin’s mind.

As a last minute decision, Harry laid a layer of protective charms to ward off any vampires that may choose to harm the boy, just in case his interference had risen too much interest. It wouldn’t do for Riddle to accidentally become a vampire.

  
See you next lesson, indeed, baby Voldemort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and yup. 
> 
> sorry if the last clause seems......random.  
> i felt like leaving it out left a bit of development missing but adding in the short bit also leaves me... niggled.  
> shrugs /o/ 
> 
> Do let me know your thoughts yes? :D eheh


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's a fix-it man and an idiot. And somewhere else is having a storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. sorry for the delay. let's not dwaddle and just go ahead. (changes may occur as i am unhappy with the end.)

_- Previously... -_

_Harry sighed, watching him go off. This escalated plans a bit. But all the same, it all depended on how well he could sway the Slytherin’s mind._

_As a last minute decision, Harry laid a layer of protective charms to ward off any vampires that may choose to harm the boy, just in case his interference had risen too much interest. It wouldn’t do for Riddle to accidentally become a vampire._

  
_See you next lesson, indeed, baby Voldemort._

_..._

Instead of returning to the teacher’s sleeping quarters above his classroom, Harry sought reprieve in Zmeyares’ company, descending to the Chambers once hidden safely within the folds of his Cloak.

 

The snake and the man had naturally been ill at ease with each other at the start - wariness natural even as they kept to their agreement to help each other out. After one tiring day that had dragged on too long clearing out a section of the Chamber, the continuous casting of menial spells led to a Harry that barely remembered to cast a cushioning spell before slumping over to rest.

He had awoken from his concussive sleep to find Zmeyares coiled around him, each comfortable in the presence of the other. From then on, Harry had worked out a “sleep area” - which was basically a giant nest made to accommodate both of them when Harry did spend the night in the Chamber.

It seemed that Harry was destined to find close friends in the oddest of places and creatures.  

 

Zmeyares turned out to be a fantastically snarky serpent over the days he got to know her. After days of tentatively breaking through each other’s social barriers (how pitiful was it that his social ability was on par with a centuries-isolated serpent?), Harry learnt a few things about his new found companion and possibly friend.

The serpent still had great fondness and what could only be described as filial piety to her Master, the many years seemingly not have done any dampening on her respect and her sense of responsibility to her duties as protector of the Chamber and loyal hound for the future Heirs, as bestowed by Master.

Said duties were enlightening to learn of. Useful too, to avoid accidentally inciting Zmeyares’ protective killing urges. He never thought he would ever have to struggle to find suitable analogies to describe the purpose of ‘renovating’ to a serpent. Harry had nearly lost more than an arm when she mistook his intent for destroying her Master’s given Chambers.

 

His years of growing up had made late nights a norm to his body, and being a certified adult had its benefits - including being able to send people to bed while staying up however long one deems purposeful. Harry snickered as he recalled the face of petulance - petulance! Dark lord! Hah! - on young Riddle’s face when he’d been sent off to bed.

As assignments had yet to pile in, his weekends were spent clearing out the Chamber. Slytherin’s accumulation of artifacts, books, and nameless things had cluttered up until no semblance of order was retained. The rooms were another mystery. Some things were buried under layers of dust so thick he could’ve used it as a blanket for winter - while others were not say extremely clean either but… noticeably more “lived in” than the other areas. Lived in as in the books were not on the verge of collapsing without the magic preserving them; lived in as in the chaise that had a permanent charm imbued to make it comfortable enough to sleep in (yes, Harry found out by (accidental) trial); lived in as in those tea cups and tins of tea leaf mixtures could not possibly be more than a hundred years old… However, when he had questioned Zmeyares if anyone had lived here before him in the last thousand years, the snake had only listed her master, and even then, Salazar Slytherin had not used his Chamber of Secrets much for living in but more of keeping his secrets and having the peace to conduct his own experiments. The only company she had for decades were pests, prey, and unwanted creatures.

Harry had shaken it off as possibly some of Slytherin’s other descendents having found the Chambers but not been ambitious or vicious enough to set the Basilisk loose, sneaking around the giant snake when she did slumber deeply.

 

Books hovered around him as he used a simple charm inspired by the nifty things Muggles had come up with in technology years to come, to search for keywords within the texts and sort them by relevance onto the new shelves he’d created. As he spared little concentration on the largely automated task, Harry thought on the problem of vampires.

The connection to his tutor was turning out to be a matter not quite so simple. Rude as the vampire may have been, it was troubling to think there may have been reasons to cause a vampire of such high standings to nearly breach niceties at a party with so fragile a peace. One doth not place thy fangs near others, period. The issue coiled around the back of his head, an unwanted but interesting nuisance.

A muffled crash resounded through the tunnels, and echoes of angry sibilant curse-words that should never be heard by hatchlings reached his ears. It seemed his fellow resident had accidentally caused some mishap. Again.

As Harry headed towards the upset snake, he wondered if setting up furniture in a place where a 40 foot large snake also roamed in was a wise venture.

He glanced askance at the tumbled bookshelves and storage crates, their contents spilled across the floor like a macabre crime scene. Harry was frankly sure that green slime oozing out of a cracked vial was Not Good.

Ceiling shelves.No, shelves _carved into_ the walls, yes there it was. He needed to create shelves that would not tumble even if a massive snake were to slither by. Yes. Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, The-One-Who-Defeated-the-Dark-Lord, Master-of-Death, and now, Creative-Home-Interior-Fix-It Man.

 

After placating the large snake (who tended to bouts of childish tantrums, which greatly conflicted her usual arrogant way of speaking), Harry had bid her to stay in the other tunnels while he renovated the walls, lest she get hurt (or in the way) again.

Harry raised the items and banished the broken pieces, carving shelves and sending the various vials into their new home. In the midst of this circus act, a flicker of cold crept down his neck in a sudden flush.

The presence of someone distinctively _not_ Zmeyares.

 

Harry spun around and was nearly blinded by the bright orange flash of a spell, barely sweeping his arm up in time to protect his face, choosing to absorb it instead of flinging it away. He did not know if it was a seeking spell and did not know if Zmeyares was nearby. It wouldn’t harm, but it could hurt her. Harry looked up to capture the gaze and mind of the attacker and -

 -   Oh.

 

Dark pale eyes - and wasn’t that an odd yet fitting descriptor - gazed steely at him. There was an unsurprising amount of suspicion and wariness in them, though the lack of any further anger, rage, or the rampaging lord of doom was rather surprising. Harry found his gaze settling on the not-nice end of a familiar yew wand being pointed at him.

Harry could very clearly imagine Hermione’s sharp smarting admonishments at the way he’d let the books fall to the floor in soft muted thuds from their mid-flight, purpose forgotten, no doubt with new dents on the corners now.

All those thoughts were very far away though, as he stared at the young Dark Lord to be. How had he forgotten such a very huge thing? Maybe living with a vampire who had no care for current affairs that did not interest him had its bad influences.

Renovating an entire centuries-old Chamber while taking care of a socially-deprived snake and juggling distressing vampiric dilemmas had actually made him momentarily forget about a certain homicidal evil teenager (heh. Lord Voldemort, homicidal teenager with an extra dollop of angst and death ...well, not threats but death promises.) that could actually access the very same Very Secret Hideout he was in. All the ruckus made renovating - it was a wonder the Boy Wonder had only just discovered him.

He let his hand grab another stupefy sent directly at him, and crumble it dramatically between his fingers. Honestly. Who sent a spell that obvious and that directly at their opponent? Was he a gryffindor? Although, what in the world was holding the young homicidal megalomaniac back from blasting a thousand distructive curses at him? It’s not like it’d be his first kill. If it’d been old Voldey, he would already be past his Evil Grand Speech stage and well into the Multiple Pain-wrecking Curses.

Harry settled on the simplest reaction.

 

He raised an eyebrow.

 

“Mr Riddle. This is not what I meant when I sent you back to your bed.”

Was that a twitch at the corner of his eye? Riddle’s jaw moved as if to speak - a spell or a greeting -

_//Master’ss Heir...Welcome back.../_

 

Harry turned to see Zmeyares (well, her head) enter through the hole on his left, noticing that Tom Riddle Jr. never wavered in his steady stare. The cold pair of grey eyes were still unfalteringly placed on him, eyeing his wand and movements, but there seemed to be … _incredulity_ building in his eyes. What. He looked from Zmeyares back to Riddle, shooting Zmeyares a puzzled glance when neither proceeded to say anything other than to flicker out a tongue. (The snake, not the boy.) Oh. The snake.

Right. Basilisk. Deadly stare. Harry not a dead body. Miracles and mysteries abound.

 

Harry made an effort to widen his eyes and raised another eyebrow at Riddle.

Riddle tightened his stance and spat out a single word. A demanding command. “ _Explain_.”

“Now, now, Mr Riddle, why don’t we all, erm, take a seat somewh -” A bright flash of what looked like malignant version of Stupefy burst out towards Harry, who internally sighed. So much for no escalation of events.

Harry quickly got a hold over the flying spell and willed the magic to dissipate into a simpler shower of sparkles that technically still did the intended effect of ‘stunning’, before reaching out with the intent of Expelliarmus and a summoning spell to pluck the yew wand out of the young Slytherin’s grip. Harry quickly slapped on a magical equivalent of handcuffs on the unarmed teenager and glued his feet to the floor, resulting in a hilarious sight. It made the young wizard look ridiculously like he had to pee.

Wordless magic, the young Dark Lord could do, but Harry was certain the boy had yet mastered any wandless magic. He wiggled the Evil Twin Brother of his wand in the air in admonishment.

“Really now. So rash. What were you planning to do if you didn’t administer the countercurse in time? A professor is not so easily ‘disappeared’.” He admonished.

Said wannabe Professor-murderer glared from his spot, arms straining against magical bonds.

His straining really made it look like he was barely containing his bladder. Harry swallowed a giggle.

  
Slapping on a stern face, Harry raised 2 fingers.

“Two options: follow me nice and peacefully where we can sit and talk, or be carted back to your room - lacking a few memories of course. I define nice and peacefully as not being a duplicitous annoyance. So, your choice, Mr. Riddle.” Unbinding his feet from the floor, Harry took a step back and waited.

Harry only smirked at the scowling Dark Lord, who spun around on the twist of a heel to leave the current room in an air of murderous icy fury. Harry followed the teenager, grinning wider at Zmeyares who merely snorted.

 

“The left tunnel, Mr Riddle. That side leads to another dust mine.” Harry called out ahead.

Harry swore he could feel the physical presence of doom rise and press down on him, practically suffocating him.

Ah, teenage angst. So adorable.

===

 

Flashes of lightning like sharp knives stabbed through the preternaturally grey gloom of Numengard.

 

Here, grey was the norm - the darkness which was decomposing, fear-drenched, slowly devouring the lives of many who no longer remember life before the war. Those who follow the rules and recite the campaigns are safe, safe as can be as each oppressed life give them a step higher above.

 

Slaps of hurried feet echoed in the stone hallways. Each flash of lightning lit his face in harsh relief. Were he not one of his Lord’s chosen few, he’d have droplets of sweat rolling down his face - instead, he kept his fear and anxiety locked as tightly within. Fear was weakness and weakness was not tolerated for his Lord’s chosen. Only one room lay at the end of the corridor, surrounded heavily by intricate wards - wards for protection, though not that the person within needed any. Robes flapping, his knuckles barely brushed the wood when the doors swung open of their own accord.

 

If the wards were powered by fear, it would be nigh impenetrable. Not fear for the room, but fear of the leader that sat within. Few knew of his person but many knew of his name and power.

 

Fingers spun a particular wand, slowly, through measured, practiced loops.

 

“My Lord.” The wand continued its loops. The messenger took a breath, shuddering as he kneeled before his lord.

“I have returned with the replies of both White and Red Courts.” A loop. “The White Lord Diu’Patrae expresses his interest, and only acceded to a meeting with you present, on his terms.” The roll of parchment was summoned without a pause in the twirl of the wand. The messenger wavered. The wand finished its loop, and came to an ominous stop pointing at the man kneeled before.

 

The figure still sat in the throne of shadows finally spoke, a voice unnerving in its utter normalcy and lack of distinguishable malevolence.

 

“You are delaying, Bermann.” A chill wrapped its fist around the messenger’s spine.

 

“I.. The Red Lord denied me any audience with him or even his advisors… “ Bermann clearly quivered and pressed himself lower to the ground. “I beg your forgiveness my Lord, I could not get an answer from the Red Court, they would not even grant me entrance - “

 

His mouth kept flapping but not a sound escaped. A soft tutting came from his Lord.

 

“Greatness is not given. For long you’ve earned the place and right to carry out the tasks I have assigned you. But with each failure… I am beginning to wonder if you’ve reached your limit.

It seems you’ve tried your best, Bermann. And best it may have been, you’ve outlived your usefulness. It’s going to be tedious to get a better replacement for you.”

 

Had he been able to make a sound, tear-wrecked screams would have echoed down the hallways, sending shivers into the bones of the other followers as they bear silent, fearful witness to another failure. Only those worthy are allowed to join their lord in his campaign, and the worthy must prove their value.

Each flash of lightning captured the poor man’s pain, seared into the memory of the one who watched. His ‘better’ replacement. The one who’d done what his predecessor could not accomplish. 

 

Ignoring the quivering mess that lay between them on the floor, the one who’d sabotaged his predecessor’s efforts rose to deliver a parchment to the Dark Lord, head bowed low in deference. 

“My Lord, I have gathered from the Red troops that their Lord is currently occupied with a sudden new interest that has been worrying them, but as per norm, they are certain their Lord will not deign to touch the affairs of Wizards or Muggles. Whispers say there is a current upset within the Vampire Courts.  


Boostered by the lack of any response, the man continued, head still bowed lowly.

“With regards to your other task, I have witnesses confirming that the Red Lord’s stone does not bear the symbol.” 

The silence that followed was testing, the soft rumble of thunder behind.

“Raise your eyes.” He controlled his flinch as the Lord’s eyes seared into his, an imposing presence roughly pulling out his specific memories to front without a care for his mind. His head snapped back when his mind was suddenly alone again, aching in the way of a thousand bruises in his skull. The man struggled to keep his body upright, hiding his trembling pale hands in the sleeves of his robes.

Appeased with the truth of his report, his Lord commended him.

“It seems that you are off a good start. You’ve seen what it takes for you to prove your worth. I want Gregorovitch, the wandmaker. I have need of his knowledge. And collect all the Invisibility Cloaks of the land and bring them to me.

Remember that failure is a personal affront to our campaign. Do not disappoint.”

The man stood with trembling knees and hastened to leave. A voice called out and froze his steps.

“And bring that thing out with you.”

As he dragged the deadweight out with him, the man stared down long and hard at the mess that was his predecessor, memorising the lines of pain - for it would serve as a reminder of what he’d become should he fail.

Frederik Karkaroff would see that his family name survives for he will not fail.

 

 

 

Back on the throne, the wand clattered onto the table, its appearance belying the grand tales of its supposed power. 

 

Unbeknownst to the followers present then, each curse had taken much wrangling to get out of the wand. It had been denying his will since the past month, sparking and fighting his spells like a common wand with a finnicky core. The legends never told of the wand betraying the owner before, only that of others stealing it from below the noses of the weak and unworthy. He needed an expert in wands to clarify, as the only theory he had did not make sense.  

How else would the wand have gained a new owner without leaving his hand?

With one Hallow in his grasp yet refusing him, he needed to hunt down the others soon, or else a certain blue-eyed nuisance would become something more dangerous to him. The Cloak especially. It was the only one that was a true danger to him, as even Death could not overcome the magic of the Cloak. The Death Stick is useless if its target can never be found.

  
An abnormally bright flash of lightning illuminated the room, showing that the desk before Grindelwald was littered with papers; papers that all showed a single symbol, of a triangle, a circle, and a line bisecting it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last update was 21July'15. Well then. I am incredibly embarrassed.  
> But i finally decided to upload even though I am still incredibly unsatisfied with how I did the last scene. It still doesn't flow right in my head, but I've been stuck on that for too long. 
> 
> (anyway, i couldn't update much last year as i joined too much shit and commitments were titanic-level of sinking. here's to a new sem, new... freedom hopefully) and im sorry for the weirdass names. i really just pulled them out of my ass - i mean head.)  
> (last update was august '15, and now is 2017, sorry. but dialogues are not my thing, scenes more of it, but the next few sections involve a lot of dialogue and i died.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some terrible sub-par explanations, a quid-pro-quo, and an increasing stress mountain.

_ (Previously on...) _

_“The left tunnel, Mr Riddle. That side leads to another dust mine.” Harry called out ahead._

_Harry swore he could feel the physical presence of doom rise and press down on him, practically suffocating him._

_Ah, teenage angst. So adorable._

=

 

“Sugar?”

 

His only reply was a stone-cold stare. The flames behind those eyes had long simmered into something more dangerous - cunning fueled by outrage. 

 

“Alright then. I’ll just help myself.”

 

Serpentine eyes that could petrify a man to stone, and eyes that clearly wished to be able to petrify, watched as the only sounds were the clinks of his teaspoon stirring, and the soft crackle hiss of the fireplace. (Harry had set up an auto-Banishing system for the smoke.) Harry held the younger’s gaze, determined to ensure that his next words would not fall on closed ears or a narrow mind. It was crucial that he told enough of the truth, yet not reveal his entire intentions - just enough to convince and to hook the young Voldemort. 

 

When his gaze fell on the snake taking up most of the room, Harry had the sudden inspiration of a ridiculous yet plausible story.

“What do you know of the Founder of your house, Mr. Riddle?” 

 

I assume you, of all Slytherins, would know more as the Heir. And I think that from your own observations, you have made the needed connections about my person too. 

Quite the surprise I’d had when Zmeyares here told me that Salazar’s heir was currently enrolled in Hogwarts.”

 

“But you are not the Heir.” It was a statement, but an accusative one still. 

 

Harry shook his head. 

“I’d think you know yourself, Mr Riddle. I am not the Heir, but I  _ am  _ of Slytherin blood.” As he spoke, Zmeyares slithered over to sneak her head below his legs. Taking the cue to automatically cast a warming charm, Harry continued in Parseltongue, settling his legs nice and toasty on a snakey leg rest.

 

//Salazar has always been quiet about his family, especially any sisters of his. But the gift of tongue is still passed on. I happen to be lucky enough to have it active, rather than repressed like a Squib’s magic.//

 

//Squibs lousy food. Not juicy enough. Like dead water - no life. Dead magic tickles.// 

The snake added the innocuous comment from below Harry’s feet, startling both men - Harry with disgusted bemusement, Tom with apparent disdain. 

 

//Thank you for that disturbing opinion, dearest Zee.//

 

Tom sputtered -  //I demand proof.//

 

Harry raised a brow. 

//Is parseltongue not enough proof of the Slytherin line? Dear boy I know you’re a teenager but really, do try to think over the impulsive hormones for a moment.//

Brows furrowed deeper.

//How did you find the Chamber?//

Harry grinned. 

//Dusty.//

Audible cracks sounded from the arm of the chair, tightly gripped by white knuckles. Harry took pity on the furniture.

 

//I had completed my studies, and much like any other ambitious young lad gifted with supposedly dead tongue, I decided to do some digging in our family’s past. After a bit of digging here and there, I found hints of the Chamber’s location in various texts. It just took a bit of elbow grease and creative thinking to find the entrance.//

He let one hand dip down to gently scratch the scales of serpent below him. 

//Since then, I’ve been slowly cleaning up the place, making use of the books and artifacts around. Extremely useful, this place. Particularly when hiding from nosy students.// 

_ And keeping out of the way of certain overly-suspicious blue-eyed Light wizards _ , he added privately in his head.

 

Riddle seemed to pause, obviously deciding whether it was worth pursuing the obvious gaps and fibs in his explanation, or ask on. He finally asked.

//The vampires - Why are you important?//

 

Taking the chance to sip his tea, Harry narrowed his eyes in thought. 

//What do you know?//

 

Was that a twitch in his jaw? Aw. He’s controlling his temper.

//I’d think I am the one asking questions here!//

 

//Quid pro quo then. Never let it be said a professor to be unfair. To make things interesting, allow me.// 

Waving a hand before the boy could respond, Harry grabbed two strands of magic and tied it between the two of them. 

//There, now we will know if the other speaks untruth, but we will still be able to speak under our own control. You can’t expect me not to take precautions, especially in a deal between two Slytherins.// 

He added, noting the other’s expression. If the boy had more control over his magic, Harry’s grin would probably be on fire. 

//Deal. Now answer me.//

//I do not know why the vampires were interested in me.// 

An eye twitch at the truth.

Harry continued his smarmy grin. This was going to be fun.

 

Between them, the ancient snake slumbered on. The squabbles in her tongue brought up feelings of nostalgia, a vague remembrance of times before - before her Master had left her, before she even knew her Master’s name. If a snake could smile, she probably would be. 

 

==== 

 

Harry sighed. 

 

He’d finally gotten rid of the boy, sending him back up to his dorm like a sullen kid being sent to his room. 

 

Left alone with his thoughts and the crackle of wood resettling in the fireplace, Harry rubbed a hand over his face with a heaved out sigh. 

 

Though not revealed explicitly, Harry had managed to gather that apparently, the dark-lord-to-be youth included vampires and fae in his gathering of connections and building of his mini empire. This Riddle seemed to be more complicated than he had anticipated. (Hah, riddle)

 

Deducing from his rather haughty proclamations, Riddle was still obsessed with absolute power, though in this case, what he considered “pure-blooded” was not so much the blood lineage but their purity and strength of magic. Which included magical creatures of magic, along with witches and wizards of strong Families. And of course, Vampires.  


_ “What do you know of the Red Lord?” _

_ “The Red Lord? Everyone knows the tales, but no one has actually even seen him in years. The Reds are a vicious and brutish breed either way, I did not consider them worthy.” Or rather, young dark-lord had probably failed to gain access into the court and dismissed them as ‘not worthy’.  _

_ “White Vampires approach you, and you ask after the ruler of the Red Court. Tell me, professor, what is your interest in the Red Lord?” _

_ “Personal.” Very personal, young Mr. Riddle. It seemed even the aspiring charming little Dark Lord had trouble with contacting the Red Court.  _

 

This was a mess.

 

//What’ss wrong, Green eyess?//

 

He looked up into the surprisingly understanding eyes (okay, one eye, as she was looking at him from one side) of the basilisk. 

 

//Your Master’s Heir is certainly ambitious. I worry.//  _ Yeah, I worry about how I am supposed to turn him from megalomania and the insanity he eventually gains. He’s even more ambitious than the one I thought I knew.  _

 

//Master’ss Heir is a growing hatchling, but a ssmart and cunning one. He has told me of taless and the future where he will release me upon the world when he brings back the ideals Master once ssought.// 

Ah. Yes.

In addition, he had to make sure Riddle did not get it in his head to release a veritable hermit yet still deadly snake. 

 

Well then. 

 

He stood up from his armchair and dusted his sleeves, summoning his robes. No time to dally. He came back precisely not to waste _time_ of all things. 

Shrugging on his cloak, Harry treated the snake with a wry grin. 

 

//I’m off to a most dangerous place, filled with powerful and dangerous weapons.//

 

If snakes could frown, Zmeyares would be furrowed in confusion.

 

//I’m off to the library.//

 

-

 

More specifically, he headed to the library to hunt down books that told him further books that he needed to find. 

 

He needed to get more information on these Vampires and Fey (were normal goblins, house elves, and sprites not enough, this world needed MORE annoyingly powerful creatures?) and start hunting down some key items from some not so very nice places. 

 

A trip to Hogsmeade was required, and perhaps a jaunt down the corner into a certain Alley after. 

 

He was rather craving some ice cream, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well.  
> I delayed on this forever because I really did not like the exchange of information, and in the end i just cut it away.  
> but i am also unsatisfied with how i cut it away.  
> if i stare at it any longer though, I really will never get to continue with this story.  
> Some conversations are just hell on me. I'm sorry for the long delay and thank you to those who read!


End file.
